Unwell
by Zane's Girl- Jo
Summary: Where was Fiyero taken after he was beaten in the loft? Companion to Elaborate Lives.


**Unwell**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: Where was Fiyero taken after he was beaten in the loft? Companion to Elaborate Lives.**

**A/N: Song belongs to Matchbox 20.**

_All day  
Staring at the ceiling  
Making friends with shadows on my wall_

He had to stay strong.

He had to.

For Elphaba.

But he couldn't. He'd tried, he really had, but it hadn't been enough.

It had been the cat....Milky or Malky or whatever its name was. He'd never liked that cat, and had known Elphaba should have thrown it onto the street. And when the Gale Force had come for Elphaba, he'd done everything he could to protect her while she was away. But it hadn't been enough.

They'd cracked him on the head, then beat him senseless before dragging him from the loft.

He'd woken up in the cell.

_All night  
Hearing voices telling me  
That I should get some sleep  
Because tomorrow might be good for something_

Southstairs was a prison.

He'd been here for the last nine months, treated like a common criminal, beaten if he didn't do what was asked, beaten if he did do as asked. He spent his afternoons curled on the floor of his cell, watching the shadows morph on the wall across from him, and his evenings staring at the ceiling, listening to the other inmates in the prison move around or talk. Every once in a while, a guard would come to the cell door, and, if he were still awake, the guard would pound on the bars of the cell, and tell him to sleep.

He was loosing his sanity, slowly, but surely. He couldn't. He couldn't suffer a breakdown, not when Elphaba needed him.

He had to do everything he could to hold on.

For her sake.

_Hold on  
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a  
Breakdown  
I don't know why_

There were times, during the day, that he saw her face.

Her dark eyes, her long, black hair, her soft, emerald skin.

He heard her voice, felt her touch, smelled her scent. He tasted her on his lips, felt her hair against his cheeks. He heard her laugh echo in the halls, woke to find her laying next to him on the floor, nude, a blanket her only cover.

And when he blinked, she was gone, with the scent of rosewood oil the only evidence she there.

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know, right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me_

He knew the other inmates, what they said. They said that he belonged in the asylum, locked in a room, wrapped in a straight jacket, monitored day and night. That he was a danger to himself and them, and that he should be put to death.

What did they know about insanity? What did they know about death?

Nothing.

They knew nothing.

None of them, inmates or guards alike.

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired  
I know, right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me  
And how I used to be...__Me_

"I miss you, Fae. I promise, I'll get back to you. I promise. I won't let you down."

She stood in front of him, her dark eyes sad, her long, ebony hair hanging in strings down her back. She shook her head.

"No you can't. You can't come back to me." Tears swam in her eyes.

"I will. I promise Fae. I promise."

_Talking to myself in public  
Dodging glances on the train  
I know_

She pulled away, turned her back to him, shoulders shaking.

"Fae, don't cry. Please, don't cry."

He moved to her, reached out to her.

"You can't, Yero my hero. You're sick. You're very sick." Her sobbing broke his heart, and he reached out, stroking her hair. She pulled away.

_I know they've all been talking 'bout me  
I can hear them whisper  
And it makes me think there must be something wrong  
With me_

He paced.

Back and forth, forth and back. Left, right, right, left.

How much longer did he have to endure this? How long would he be locked up here?

Days ticked by, nights came and went.

Three years had passed, and he was no closer to freedom than he had been the night he was brought here.

Fae would have turned twenty-eight, this September.

He would have been twenty-eight, in June.

Their son Liir, turned three.

_Out of all the hours thinking  
Somehow  
I've lost my mind  
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know, right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me_

"I need to get out. I have to see you."

"You can't. Yero, how many times do I have to say this? You're sick, and getting sicker by the minute. They won't let you out. The only way they'll let you out is in a coffin."

She sat next to him, reaching out to stroke his brow.

"Warm."

He looked at her like she was insane.

"What?"

Worry filled her eyes.

"You're warm."

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired  
I know right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me  
And how I used to be_

He denied it.

He wasn't sick. He was fine.

Worried about Fae, and that was it.

But he wasn't sick.

_I been talking in my sleep  
Pretty soon they'll come to get me  
Yeah, they're taking me away_

He was sick.

Fever, ran high, causing his cheeks to flush and his body to shake with chills.

He didn't have much longer.

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell  
I know, right now you can't tell  
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see  
A different side of me_

"Please, let me see her. I have to see her. I have to hear her voice."

The guards ignored him, the delusions and rantings of a dying man.

Slumped in his cell, he coughed, his palms and fingers becoming stained red with blood.

_I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired  
I know, right now you don't care  
But soon enough you're gonna think of me  
And how I used to be_

His vision came in and out.

"Yero? Yero, can you hear me?"

A smile formed on his face.

"Fae..."

"Shh. Hush love." Gently, she brushed his hair from his brow.

"Fae...."

"There's someone I want you to meet."

He struggled to sit up, laying eyes on a little boy in Fae's arms.

"Yero, meet Liir."

"Who.....who's Liir?"

She met his eyes. Slowly, his blue eyes closed for the final time, and as he succumbed to the fever that had ravaged his body for months, he heard her whisper,

"Your son."

_Hey, how I used to be  
How I used to be, yeah  
Well I'm just a little unwell  
How I used to be  
How I used to be_


End file.
